


a martini for him, a whisky rocks for me.

by teuklberries



Category: K-pop, NCT (Band), WAYV
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Assassins & Hitmen, Emotional Baggage, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Pain, Repressed Feelings, but also love each other, i dont know why i hurt myself this way, its not fun in here, kunten hate each other, mention of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-13 12:02:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29526120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teuklberries/pseuds/teuklberries
Summary: "How long has it been, now?" Kun asked quietly, staring down at the ice floating in his drink."3 years. He would be 21, by now,"
Relationships: Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten/Qian Kun
Comments: 4
Kudos: 54





	a martini for him, a whisky rocks for me.

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this at 2am while listening to cigarettes after sex, enjoy.

Kun remembers the last time he saw Ten like it happened only hours ago, fresh in his mind and dominating his every thought. Ten has that effect on people. Even if years pass, decades, millennia, he sticks in your brain like a parasite.

Kun hates Ten.

Ten hates Kun.

But somehow, some way, Ten plagues his mind like no other person walking on planet earth, refusing to leave him alone for even one empty second. The last time Kun and Ten crossed paths was exactly a year ago in the very bar Kun had found himself in, tucked away in a dank alley far beyond the normal night club street. Gross, damp, full of sketchy characters and cheap off brand alcohol that burned if you drank too much in one gulp, no matter how much mixer you combined it with.

Somewhere in the bar a neon sign hangs limply, the last of its life force desperately displaying the word "open" in garish blue cursive, creating a constant buzzing that drove Kun more and more insane as every second passed.

A creak and a clunk sound from across the bar, followed by the sound of heels meeting splintered wooden floorboards. Kun inhales deeply, his shoulders rising and falling shakily, giving away the nervousness that festered underneath his cold demeanour. Minutes passed, the buzzing continued, before a short, lithe figure slid itself into the seat across from Kun, neither of them saying anything that resembled a greeting.

"You know I hate your stupid face, right? I can't stand it. For even a second." Ten finally broke the silence that had fallen over the table, his cat like eyes glaring holes into Kun's skull.

"And I hate your holier than thou attitude, it makes me want to puke," Kun retorted, his own gaze mean and pointed. He stared into Ten's dark eyes, studying them for signs of anything other than violent hatred, a fruitless effort.

Kun hates Ten.

Ten hates Kun.

"I'm surprised you're not dead, all the stupid shit you get yourself into, thought I might be seeing you dead in a dumpster on the news by now. What a beautiful sight it would be, huh?" Ten said with a flamboyant gesture, gazing into space as if polarized by the concept of Kun meeting a violent end, a sentiment Kun returned wholeheartedly in the opposite direction.

"I hoped you might be a John Doe in a suitcase by now, just a torso and maybe a limb or two, imagine that huh?"

Ten scoffed, pausing to take a sip of his drink, his eyes still locked onto Kun. The pair stared at each other for some minutes, neither wanting to be the one to back down from the dick measuring contest that they'd started without meaning to, a contest Kun eventually lost.

"You're still weak. Do I dance through your mind, Kun? Do I make a little twirl and a pretty landing pose? Do I look beautiful and poised like a ballerina?" Ten mocked, his arms moving to mimic the graceful movements of a ballerina, fingers waving in the air rhythmically. Kun scoffed and turned away from Ten's smug victory dance, his tongue pushing a bulge into his cheek in annoyance.

"Do you still think about me, in bed with you? Do you think about the time we spent together, me on your chest, our clothes on the floor, sheets all tangled around our--"

"Would you stop talking for half a second?" Kun cut in, his tone much harsher than it had previously been. Kun noticed a spark in Ten's eyes, a spark of triumph that he had upset Kun so much.

Kun hates Ten.

Ten hates Kun.

A silence fell over the table again, the only sound being the ice in Kun's glass clinking as it moved through the bitter whisky trapped inside. They drank in silence, still glaring at each other periodically, still angry, bitter. Ten broke the silence.

"What do you think we could've been, right now?" He hummed, resting his chin on his palm, gazing at Kun as always, but with soft eyes, this time. "If I hadn't done it?"

"Well, maybe we would still be having no strings attached sex. Dejun would still be alive. There's no maybe about that one, is there?"

"I had no other choice--"

"You had choices. You had the choice to not kill him. You're _notorious_ for worming your way out of any situation you fall into. You chose to kill him. You looked him in the eyes and you covered his mouth so he wouldn't scream when you stabbed him. You thought about it and you acted accordingly." Kun spat, his hands trembling with a harshly suppressed rage, "You killed him, just because you wanted to do it."

Ten sighed, averting his eyes from Kun's venomous glare to stare at the table between them. "You weren't there, Kun, you don't understand the situation I was in."

"Then make me understand."

"Every year you tell me to make you understand. Every year you refuse to listen to me. You don't want to hear that you were wrong." Ten looked up again, his eyes softer, stern voice faltering for a second. "You don't want to accept that you couldn't protect him."

Kun's breath hitched the same way it did every year, every time Ten said that cursed phrase, that truth Kun had rejected continuously.

Kun _hates_ Ten.

Ten _hates_ Kun.

"How long has it been, now?" Kun asked quietly, staring down at the ice floating in his drink.

"3 years. He would be 21, by now," Ten replied softly, reaching out to carefully lower Kun's glass back down onto the table, afraid that Kun's enraged tremors would break the glass into dangerous shards. "He would likely be the same, though, he'd be excited. He wouldn't be experienced enough to know what the job is really like. Not like we do."

Kun grunted in response, still staring down at his glass, this time to hide the tears making themselves known in his eyes. "He wasn't ready. He shouldn't have been sent. He was a kid."

Ten nodded solemnly, his hand still lingering a little too long on Kun's arm. "He wasn't ready to face it."

"To face you."

"To face me," Ten nodded again, his own eyes welling with tears that he quickly wiped before they could fall into his drink. "He wasn't ready to face me," Ten whispered, his voice cracking.

"He trusted you. You know that, don't you? He trusted you with his life," Kun looked up to observe Ten's eyes, still filled with tears that Ten had tried desperately to hide. "And you took it from him."

"I did... I took it. He was barely 18 and I took his chance at life before it started." Ten's voice cracked again, tears finally escaping his eyes to roll down his cheeks, almost cinematically.

They sat in silence again, Ten trying fruitlessly to prevent additional tears from staining his face, Kun trying to still his trembling hands, both of them failing. The neon sign still buzzing in the background, the cheap spirits still burning their throats with every mouthful, the bar still gross and the characters still sketchy. Like clockwork, every year, for 3 years. Ten cries, Kun shakes, the sign buzzes.

"I loved you." Kun said shakily, his chest rising and falling just a little faster, the strain of holding in his own sobs showing itself just slightly. "I _love_ you. But I hate you. I want you dead. I want to kill you myself."

"I love you. But I want to reach across the table and throttle you right now, more than anything. More than anything I've ever wanted," Ten replied quietly, his face still stained with an ever present supply of tears. Kun reached across the table and wiped Ten's cheeks with his soft, warm hands, a familiar feeling Ten wanted nothing more than to lean into, to fall into and feel safe. To feel at home.

"Maybe one day, I'll be able to understand. Maybe I'll be able to love you again," Kun whispered, his eyes finally softening at the sight of Ten so broken, just as they did every year, just like clockwork. "I want to."

"I want you to love me again." Ten whispered back, his shoulders shaking still. "I miss you."

Kun stilled, his body tense and rigid, never prepared to hear the words leave Ten's mouth.

"I miss you. I do." Kun finally answered, "but I can't love you, not yet."

"I know..." Ten sighed, still hiding his tears behind his long fringe, his head hung low. "I can't ever forget. I won't."

The silence fell again, not even the clinking of ice cubes in Kun's glass, not when he had finally finished the whisky that once sloshed between the cubes. Ten's martini glass had been emptied long ago, yet neither of them moved, not for a long time, not until Kun stood up.

"I have to go, now." He said, sadness hidden in his voice, just like every year. He reached into his jacket pocket and placed an envelope on the table in front of Ten. Ten did the same, passing an envelope to Kun, neither of them needing to explain, the names on the front spoke for themselves. _"My Love"_ one read. _"My Dear"_ read the other.

"Next year," Kun whispered, leaning down to press the gentlest kiss to Ten's cheek, then presenting his own for Ten to do the same.

"Next year," Ten echoed, clutching the envelope in his hands as if someone would take it from him.

Kun stood up straight again, finally heading toward the door across from them that lead to the outside world. He turned to look at Ten one last time, just like he had done every year before, and let the door close behind him, putting an end to the perpetual buzzing of that ghastly neon sign. The silence Kun dreaded every day. The silence that separated him from Ten.

Kun hates Ten.

Ten hates Kun.


End file.
